


house called the rising sun

by freedomatsea



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Southern Gothic, Vampire!Killian, Vampires, Witches, witch!emma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freedomatsea/pseuds/freedomatsea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beaufort, South Carolina is at the heart of the South’s Lowcountry and home to the coven of witches Emma Swan’s accepted to take over. Emma expected to come head-to-head with the current leader, a witch caught up in Black Magic, but she didn’t foresee getting herself tangled up in the vampire clan that resided in the Rising Sun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter one

Emma wedged her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she hauled her suitcase towards the row of apartment buildings that she would now be calling home. “I don’t know _why_ I moved down here.” She complained to her friend on the other side of the phone. “It’s hot and disgusting.”

The sticky air clung to her skin, making her brow glisten with sweat as she unloaded her life from the backseat of her yellow bug. The best description of the weather she had to give, was that she was pretty sure she now knew what corn on the cob felt like when it’s wrapped in plastic wrap and stuck in the microwave.

“ _Ugh_.” She huffed as she fumbled for her keys. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

Emma shouldered the door open, stepping into the dimly lit apartment which reeked with that Lowcountry aroma she was going to have to get used to. As Mary Margaret had so _sweetly_ reminded her, she chose to take this position. No one forced her to move to a coastal community to lead a coven. They’d offered and she’d jumped at the chance to explore a new part of the country. She’d always been a drifter, but the little town in Maine had been the most permanent place she’d ever lived. For all intents and purposes it was _home_ , but now she’d uprooted herself and planted seeds in a place that had bugs the size of her hand.

Her heart had guided the decision, which in the past usually meant something – good or bad – would come of it.

The apartment had been procured sight unseen. It was close enough to Beaufort where the coven was, but not right inside the town. There was no way in hell she’d have been able to afford the houses and apartments in the town – hundreds of thousands to _millions_ of dollars? Fuck that. She’d make do with a three room apartment by a briny body of water that was home to crocodiles.

She preferred living by the water. That was where she found her magic. She’d been landlocked out west for far too long and the move to Boston and then up to Maine had unlocked her full potential. Ingrid, who’d been the leader of the coven up north had said she’d never seen one person possess as much power as she did. For someone who’d discovered she had abilities later in life, she’d really blossomed into a powerful witch.

Which was exactly how she’d gotten the offer. The coven here had been dealing with a difficult leader. One who seemed more interested in dark magic, opposed to light. The network of covens along the Eastern seaboard were _good_ witches – those who had the best interests at heart. Though they weren’t quite as good as Hallmark Channel’s too-perfect _Good Witch_ Cassie Nightingale. Emma frequently watched that just to roll her eyes at the innocent and useless magic they made up on it.

Emma headed back downstairs to grab the last two boxes of her belongings. One was her magic box which was filled with candles, stones, herbs, pre-made potions, and her books. Boston had been such a magically charged town when she lived there, which was when she acquired the vast majority of her collection. Despite the sticky weather that slapped her in the face each time she stepped outside, she felt that same current of energy dancing through the air. There was something else, something that she was unfamiliar with clinging to the currents. Was that the darker magic that ran rampant in the South? Black Magic Hoodoo and Voodoo?

Emma slammed her car door shut a little harder than necessary, before turning on her heels to head back for apartment, but she came face-to-face with a man staring at her.

“Need any help?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

He held his hands up in mock-defense, “No need to be so prickly. Just a neighbor. Heard there was someone new moving in today and thought I might offer a helping hand.”

“I’ve got it covered from here,” Emma said briskly, moving to step around the brown haired man, giving him a once over with a skeptical look. She was always leery of strangers who just appeared out of nowhere. _Stranger danger_ and all that.

“Name’s Robin. I live in 15b, right down the hall from you if you ever need any help.” He explained, even as she stepped past him to head for the complex. There was something about him that made her feel uncomfortable and she wondered how long he’d been watching her unload her car. Ingrid had offered her wisdom from a dream she’d had – _watch your back_.

“Cool.” Emma said blandly as she steered herself straight towards the stairwell that led to the second floor where her apartment was. 13b. Of course the guy lived right down the hall from her.

“Did the landlady tell you about the Palmetto Bugs?”

Emma rolled her eyes, glancing back over her shoulder to see that he was right behind her, following her up there stairs. “She sent a picture. Nasty looking things.” She said as monosyllabic as possible. She didn’t want to chat with her neighbors. She wanted to move in and relax before tomorrow morning rolled around and she was thrust completely into her new life. 

“We don’t get many new people here.” Robin told her as they reached the landing. Thankfully he’d taken the hint and headed towards his apartment as she pulled the keys out for her own.

Emma’s brows knit together. “Hope that’s not because of problems around here.”

Robin whistled, “Depends on what you consider problems.” He chuckled. “Hasn’t every town got problems?”

Emma nodded, pushing her door open, turning back to look at him. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

“Have a good evening Emma.”

“You too.” Emma said quickly, before slamming the door shut, locking it, and latching the chain across it. She hadn’t told him her name had she? Her heart was pounding in her chest as she moved to sit the boxes down on her kitchen table. That didn’t make any sense. Unless her landlady had told people someone named Emma was moving into the complex. That’s what she was going to go with. Otherwise she was going to crazy with worry.

There was something about his aura that had set her on edge. It wasn’t necessary _evil_. It was an ambiguous sort of coloration that left too many questions without answers. Maybe he was just a socially awkward nosey neighbor who didn’t know it was _creepy_ to stand around and silently watch your new neighbor unload her car.

Emma dug around in her box, looking for a specific book that just happened to be at the bottom of _everything_ else. Which was how it always worked out. She huffed as she pulled it free from the other books and the candles which trapped it at the bottom of the box. _Practical Currents_. She flipped through the pages, trying to find something that jumped out at her. Witches, vampires, demons, hell raisers, necromancers, _werewolves_. The color of the aura on the page was similar enough to the man she’d just encountered.

But that would be _insane_? She was probably just exhausted from the drive and her mind was playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be the first time. Besides, having a werewolf live down the hall from her was infinitely better than having a necromancer or a demon there instead. It was more than likely that he was just a perfectly normal guy, albeit a little nosey and awkward, and she was just seeing things.

Ingrid had told her about a few vampire clans that called the Lowcountry home, but no one had mentioned to be wary of werewolves down here. She didn’t have to worry about vampires, they steered clear of witches, but werewolves – they tended to want _cures_ for their curse. Mary Margaret always complained about how many werewolves wandered into her shop begging for something to soothe their malady, but there was no cure for lycanthropy. Only werewolves seemed to bemoan their curse. If the man across the hall _was_ a werewolf, she only prayed he left her alone.

~

Sleep didn’t come easily. The bed was uncomfortable and her sheets clung to her skin, which really didn’t lend to a good night’s sleep. It didn’t help that her thoughts before she went to bed had led to strange dreams about vampires. Well, one vampire in particular. He had bright blue eyes and a sharp jawline that had her dream-self a little weak in the knees. It made her wonder if her fitful sleep was because of the temperature or because of the man that haunted her dreams.

Unlike Ingrid, she didn’t have prophetic dreams. Her handsome dream vampire was just that – a _dream_. A really good dream. She’d never really thought herself to be the sort to get hot over someone so icy cold and _drop dead_ gorgeous. Apparently her subconscious was telling her she needed to unwind and he was the person to do just that.

She rolled over and checked her phone, mindlessly checking her email – which was nothing but spam and a few order confirmations for some supplies she was having delivered in the coming days. Mary Margaret had texted her at some point in the night, telling her to be strong and that good would come from this. Which was sweet, she was wholly more optimistic than she had _ever_ been. She had tried to convince her and her husband to move down to Beaufort with her, but they were pretty entrenched in their lives in Maine. Especially with the baby on the way.

The coven was meeting around noon at a café on Bay Street, which was housed inside of a historic bank building. Hopefully they’d be _genuine_ witches and not the flakey _earth, power, and love_ freaks that seemed to be breaking into the scene. She could handle the situation if the leader was playing around with Black Magic, she wore a stone around her neck which protected her from hexes, but it was the faux-witches who knew too much that caused the most trouble.

Emma dressed in the lightest thing she owned, a tank top and a pair of jeans, and set out to explore Beaufort before it was time to go to lunch. She looked out her peephole, checking for her weird neighbor, before she slipped out of her apartment. She really didn’t want to have another encounter with the man. He was probably perfectly nice, but she preferred to keep to herself.

The town was quaint: antique shops, boutiques, and little restaurants lined the main street, while ancient houses, symbols of days long gone, sat alongside streets concealed by Spanish Moss that hung over the branches of equally as ancient trees. It was picturesque and _hot as hell_. She was really starting to question why she’d chosen to come down here. If this was what late spring felt like, she wasn’t going to survive the summer. While the Downtown Marina was gorgeous, the palm trees offered little relief from the mid-morning sun as it seared against her skin.

Nestled at the very end of Craven Street was a house that caught Emma by surprise. All of the houses in Beaufort were admittedly gorgeous, but this one was _incredible._ It was a grand two story Greek Revival with massive columns that added to its majesty. It made the other houses around it seem like dog houses.

Emma eyed the name plaque on the ornate wrought iron fence – _Rising Sun_. Emma couldn’t help but wonder if the owners were fans of The Animals song. It suited the house. Though, wasn’t the Rising Sun in New Orleans?

She laughed to herself as her eyes raked over the house, taking in the vast number of windows that faced her. In the age before air conditioning she could understand why they needed so many windows, in hopes that a breeze would cool the place off. Though the dank smell coming from the murky Beaufort River beside the house would have made her wary of keeping the windows open for air.

Emma noticed something unusual about the house – all the windows were painted with a thick layer of…black paint?

Except for one. Movement in that window caught her attention, drawing her eyes to it. It looked like a curtain had billowed out and then fallen still, as though someone had receded from the window when she noticed it. Had someone been watching her ogle their house?

She stared at the window for a long moment longer, willing whoever had been there to come back, so she wouldn’t feel crazy.

Clearly, the heat was having its way with her.

Emma lingered, watching, waiting, _hoping_ she’d see the figure again. She still wasn’t certain if she’d actually seen _someone_ or if it had just been a curtain blowing in the non-existent breeze.

Though, she had a damn good idea why the windows were blackened and it _wasn’t_ because the sun made the rooms hot. Her heart beat a little faster in her chest as she remembered the dream she’d had. It was _insane_ , but stranger things had been known to happen.

She turned her back on the grand mansion and she _knew_ she was being watched again. She could feel the eyes on the back of her head, but she didn’t dare to look back. This wasn’t why she’d moved to Beaufort.

Emma had barely reached the restaurant before she found herself being accosted. A blonde woman around her age grabbed her and hugged her before she had a chance to register. “Emma! Oh God. You _are_ Emma right? I really hope you’re Emma, otherwise that was really awkward.”

Emma laughed, pulling away from the hug. “That’s me. Still awkward though.” She eyed the woman, trying to figure out who she was, before it clicked. “You’re Elsa, right?” She’d met her once about three years ago. She was Ingrid’s niece and she was the one who had told her aunt about the mess going on with the coven.

“You remember me!” She smiled. “Thank you so much for coming down here. You have no idea how much it means to me. I would have taken over myself, but I don’t have very good control of my abilities yet. Ingrid said you’re the _best_.”

Emma ignored the comment about her being the best. To her the woman was just trying to guilt her into not being pissed off. “Has the witch already stepped down?” From what Ingrid had told her, it sounded like she had, but it had all been kind of vague.

Elsa looked away, “That’s _kinda_ the problem.”

She frowned, crossing her arms across her chest. “Ingrid acted like she wasn’t still leading the group.” Emma sighed. “I’ll figure out what to do.” She sat her jaw hard. It would have been nice to at least know that a witch practicing Black Magic was still in control. She expected her to _maybe_ still be part of the coven, but not in a leadership position. She was going to have her work cut out for her.

“We haven’t _actually_ told her that we don’t want her leading us anymore.” Elsa said, toying with the end of her thick braid. “The coven’s rather split about the issue.”

“ _Great_.” Emma huffed. “What’s her name?”

“Regina Mills.” Elsa answered. “She’s quite the force to be reckoned with. I have my suspicions that she’s been playing with Black Magic for some time, but only recently started trying to pull us into the mess.”

“Let’s hope this goes well.” Emma said dryly, giving the other blonde a look of irritation. “People don’t generally take getting replaced well.” What the hell had she gotten herself into?

 


	2. chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two months later... I finally update.

Emma followed Elsa into the restaurant, trying not to look as pissed off as she felt. Elsa had clearly lied to her aunt about the situation or Ingrid had intentionally misled Emma. She had been so convincing too. Usually Emma was better at figuring out if someone was lying to her. Except when her emotions were involved and… unfortunately, she’d felt pretty strongly about coming down here. That could have easily clouded her judgement.

Elsa glanced back over her shoulder, giving Emma a hopeful smile. “I’m sure they’ll love you.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Just don’t interfere with what I say.” She had a plan slowly coming together in her mind and she just _hoped_ she could pull it off. There was no way in hell she was just going to straight up tell a woman who was playing around with Black Magic that she was out of the coven. Especially if there was any chance that others were following her into that mess.

The coven had reserved a room in the back of the restaurant and several of the women were already seated at the table. Emma grimaced at the sense of dread that overcame her as she stepped into the space. Someone was _definitely_ playing around with the dark forms of magic. It was worse than the thick air she’d been trudging around in outside.

Elsa cleared her throat, “Hey everyone, I’d like you to meet Emma Swan. She’s going to _hopefully_ be joining our coven.”

Emma waved her hand, flashing them a convincing smile. “I’m hoping it works out for me down here. I was getting _so_ bored with life up in Maine. I had to get away from the monotonous atmosphere up there.” 

The dark haired woman at the head of the table stood up, extending her hand towards Emma. “Regina Mills, this is _my_ coven. It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Swan.” She gave her a once over, eyes narrowing. “When did you get into town?”

“Just yesterday.” Emma said, moving to sit down beside Elsa. She reached for the glass of water at her seat, taking a sip of it. “It was a long ass drive.” She sighed exhaustedly.

“Great.” Regina replied tightly, sinking back into her seat. “You belonged to Ingrid’s coven, _correct_?”

Emma gave Elsa a sideways look. Had the woman told them everything about her? “Yep.” She nodded, taking another sip of water. “I loved her, but… I needed something _more_.” She had some half-baked plan forming to convince this woman that she too was interested in Black Magic. It could end up backfiring on her, but it was worth a try.

“That’s how I ended up here,” Said one of the other women at the table. “Regina and I had known each other in high school. We went our separate ways for university and when I fell on hard times, suffering through a _terrible_ coven she invited me here to join her.”

“It’s a shame you’re only half the witch you used to be Mal.” Regina said snidely, a smirk curving at her lips as she took a sip of her wine.

Emma’s brows rose upwards at the harsh remark.

The woman set Regina with a steely glare. “At least I didn’t _become_ my mother.”

Regina glared before her expression shifted freakishly fast. She set Emma with an almost sinister smile. “You’ll grow accustomed to how we operate Ms. Swan. Hopefully Ingrid hasn’t spoiled you with May Day celebrations and floral charms.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Emma remarked, making the entire table laugh. She did _not_ like this woman. Every word she said seemed to be double edged and designed to cut people down to size.  “For what it’s worth, Ingrid is an incredible witch and the women in my coven in Maine are wonderful, but I wanted more and this felt like the right change of scenery.”

“You mean you were looking for something that wasn’t quite so _vanilla_?” Mal retorted, “No offense to your aunt Elsa, but… she’s past her prime.”

“You should talk.” Regina quipped as she took another sip of her wine.

“We’re the same age darling. If I am, so are you.”

Emma had never been in a coven with women as catty as these women were. If Mary Margaret were involved with this one, Emma was certain she’d already be crying in the bathroom, calling David to take her home. The women up north were definitely _nicer_ , but Emma wasn’t so thin skinned. There was nothing they could throw at her that she hadn’t already self-criticized herself over. That was probably why Ingrid had even mentioned this to begin with. Emma wasn’t easily pushed around.

“I don’t know about you ladies, but I’m _starving_.” Emma said, reaching for her menu, as a way to steer the conversation away from the slowly forming catfight. “Are we waiting for anyone else?”

“Ana and that miserable step-sister of hers.” Regina said as she eyed her own menu. “We can order without them. They’re not that important.”

Elsa sighed affectedly. “We _should_ wait for them. It’s only polite.”

“Did I ask your opinion Elsa?” Regina remarked, reaching for her phone, a smirk curving upwards at the corner of her lips.

“No. You didn’t.”

Emma’s brows knit together as she studied the brunette over her menu. She had a dark aura around her, not wholly _evil_ , but it was quite clear to her that she’d been dabbling in the darker side of witchcraft.

“With a look like that when you’re eyeing your phone, you’ve got to spill.” Emma said, sitting her menu down. “What’s his name?”

Regina’s gaze snapped up her expression falling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come on. That was the same face my best friend makes when she’s reading a text from her husband.” Emma arched a brow.

“I don’t think that’s _any_ of your business Ms. Swan. I don’t plan to question you about your personal life. Perhaps that’s how your coven up north operated, but not here. What goes on behind closed doors is none of our concern. I don’t plan to keep tabs on who you’re fucking.”

“So you’re fucking him?” Emma retorted with no small amount of sass. “I see how it is.” She chuckled to herself as she waved for the waiter to come over. “I’ll have a glass of the Riesling.” What she really wanted was the strong stuff, but that didn’t mix well with hot weather. Maybe she could convince Elsa to go out with her later and get drunk.

After _this_ she was going to need to get hammered.

Regina didn’t find her comment amusing. She glared at Emma with a look that would have killed if that were even possible. She definitely wasn’t going to be making friends with this woman. Then again, sometimes having enemies worked out for her.

But in this sort of social circle, enemies meant hexes and having to watch your back. Which was exactly what Ingrid had warned her to do.

Elsa gave Emma a sideways look, her brows rising upwards. Emma shrugged, sinking back in her seat. Clearly things weren’t going the way that Elsa had planned, but maybe they would have worked out better if Elsa had been a little more upfront with the situation Emma was going to be dealing with.

“Have you ever had this ‘grown up’ grilled cheese?” Emma questioned the other blonde, pointing at the menu item.

She shook her head. “No, but it sounds delicious.” Elsa replied, picking up her own menu then.

Emma glanced across the table, catching Regina glaring at her. “ _Grilled cheese_? There’s nothing ‘grown up’ about that. Are you going to order it without the crust too?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Quite possibly. Depends on the bread.”

Mal snickered at the other end of the table. “I like this one. She’s got a backbone.”

Instead of making any sort of remark to the other witch’s comment, Regina waved the waiter back to take their orders.

The two women that had mentioned in passing never did turn up for the lunch and the meeting went on without interruption. Regina instructed them about the moon phases they would be entering into in the coming month and spoke on what to expect (as far as planetary alignments and other influences on the witches). Mal discussed some new spell she had been dabbling with, which Emma thought sounded like a crock of shit and it was more than likely not exactly what she was describing. If she knew better, she too was dabbling in the same dark arts that Regina was.

Emma knew that her goose, or swan as it were, was cocked when Regina hinted at the fact that the coming month would bring snakes in the grass waiting for the kill. The way she pointedly ignored Emma’s place at the table said _everything_ about what she meant.

~

“Thank you for agreeing to this.” Emma said as she settled onto the bar stool beside Elsa. “After that lunch from hell, I needed a drink.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t go well. I guess I should have warned you that she-”

“Was the devil in a pantsuit?” Emma gave her a look. “A fair warning would have been nice or even, you know, the right thing to do.”

“I was afraid if you knew how bad it was you wouldn’t come.”

“You could have at least told Ingrid the truth. She thought this was going to be some easy situation for me. We had a lengthy discussion about how to go about fixing this fucking coven and then I come down here and you’ve omitted _everything_.”

Elsa covered her face. “I’m sorry. I’m _sorry_. I just… I was hopeful that you’d be as incredible as my aunt said you were. I thought you’d be the answer.”

Emma waved for the bartender. “Well you fucked up and now I’m royally screwed.”

“Don’t say that. I still have hope that you’ll figure something out.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s probably not going to happen. I’m pretty sure if I try anything she’ll kill me. God she’s terrifying.” Emma shuddered. “But there’s no doubt she’s doing Black Magic. I wish I’d been able to see who she was texting. I need some sort of dirt on her.”

“She keeps her personal life _very_ private.” Elsa explained as the bartender step up to take their orders.

“What can I do for you ladies?”

“I’ll take a beer.” Emma said, pretty much disregarding the bartender altogether. Though Elsa on the other hand was making eyes at him.

“What do you recommend?” She questioned, toying with the end of her braid as she fluttered her lashes and looked absolutely ridiculous.

And of course the guy was eating out of the palm of her hand. “A beautiful woman like you should have something fruity. Do you like vodka?”

“I love it.”

Emma rolled her eyes.

“Then I’ll make you a Fuzzy Navel.” The bartender winked at her before turning his back to start on her drink.

“You did hear that I wanted a beer right?” Emma questioned dryly, giving Elsa a look. “You floozy.”

Elsa grinned. “You drown yourself in alcohol after a bad day, I… hit on hot bartenders.”

Emma laughed. “I’ve been there, done that – well not _that_ one – but ones back home, and I’m sure I’ve got the bar t-shirt to prove it.” She shook her head. “Just don’t get yourself hurt.”

Elsa arched a brow. “Just because your friends with my aunt doesn’t mean you get to parent me Emma.”

“I’m not parenting you. Consider this sisterly advice. Wrap it before you tap it. I’m sure you’re not the first _beautiful woman_ he’s picked up at the last call.”

“Emma!” Elsa slapped her hand. “I do actually know what STDs and HPVs are. Blonde but not dumb.”

“I didn’t say you were dumb.” Emma snorted. “But you do twirl your braid and do the doe eyes quite well.”

Elsa shook her head. “Oh stop. I didn’t come out drinking with you to get lectured on safe sex.”

Emma held her hands up. “I’m just saying.”

“So you don’t pick up guys at bars anymore?”

Emma shrugged, “Eh. It wasn’t like I did it all the time before. I just did it when I got the urge. I’m not here to find something like that. Fresh start and all that.” She sighed, shaking her head. If she kept having dreams like last night, she wasn’t going to need to go out to get laid. Because that had been _almost_ as satisfying.

“All I can say is, don’t cockblock me.” Elsa said before her attention was back on the hot bartender who had clearly not heard Emma’s order whatsoever, because he came back with a Fuzzy Navel and no beer.”

“I ordered a beer. I don’t care if it’s on tap or in a bottle, I just want something.” Emma said a little more aggressively than necessary, but it got the guy’s attention and he was moving to get it for her.

“ _Emma_.”

“Don’t Emma me. I’m not getting my ordered shafted because you’re too busy trying to see his shaft.” She said, her tongue pressed to the inside of her cheek.

“Ha. Ha.” Elsa said, taking a sip of her drink with a satisfied little hiss. Much like her aunt, Elsa was dainty and petite, but Emma figured she could pack quite the punch if she set her heart on it. She could handle herself.

“Do you even know what his name is?”

“It’s Jefferson.” Elsa said with a self-satisfied grin as she picked up the napkin that had come with her drink. His name and his number were written there.

“Damn. No time wasted at all.” Emma laughed, thanking the bartender as he came back with her beer. She really didn’t even care about the brand, she just cared about having it. She left Elsa to her flirting, heading over to the old-timey jukebox near the back of the bar. Ironically the first song she came to that she recognized was that damn song by The Animals – _House of the Rising Sun_. That place was apparently supposed to be at the forefront of her thoughts. She didn’t believe in coincidences.

By the time the song finished playing she’d already finished her beer and was heading back towards the bar for a second round. She loved the little burn of alcohol as it slid down her throat and was even more of a fan of the little foggy feeling that came with it. Given the lack of sleep she had last night and the stress of the day two beers was going to give her the buzz she’d been wanting.

She sat beside Elsa like a third wheel, trying not to listen to the ridiculous flirting going on beside her. She idly watched the crowd, reading auras and trying to sense the backstory of every face she caught sight of.

That was when she saw a man standing outside the window of the bar. A man who… was all too familiar.

Emma’s heart was pounding in her chest as she made eye contact with the man standing outside the bar. She’d seen him before. His face was unmistakable. But he was only a dream. He couldn’t _really_ be there. That was insane. She didn’t have prophetic dreams. Yet there he was, very much the man from last night, and he was staring at her.

In a blink of her eyes he was gone.

“I’ll be right back.” Emma said to Elsa, though her blonde companion was too busy leaning over the bar, flirting with the bartender.

She was a little unsteady on her feet at first, but she was far too determined to care. Emma emerged from the bar, looking both ways down the street. But he was _gone_. As if he’d just been some vision she’d conjured up. There was no way in hell any fantasy of hers could have been _that_ realistic. She had been too focused on him to even notice if anyone else had seen him. How could you pass up the opportunity to ogle that face?

The heat had gotten to her. She was losing it.

Emma stared into the distance, studying the streetscape, willing her seemingly imaginary man to make an appearance, but all she saw was tourists ambling along the street after dinner and locals stumbling around after a night out at the bar.

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she focused her energy on _him_. Trying to pick up where he’d been, where he’d gone. To reach out and _find_ him. That was what she was good at. Reading energies and finding people. She’d made a living out of it before she’d actually known that it was _magic_. She’d just thought she was innately good at finding missing people.

The warm evening air clung to her skin, the scent of the briny river nearby filled her nostrils.

 _Craven Street_.

Her feet started to move before her eyes opened. The scent brought back flashes of the house she’d seen earlier that day. Rising Sun. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the house and the man she’d dreamed about the night before were somehow connected. The thought had been with her since she saw the house, but she tried not to linger on it. She didn’t have prophetic dreams. Nothing she’d ever conjured up at night came true. Not like other witches. That wasn’t her skill.

But the dream had been so vivid – so _real_.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she waited at the intersection that faced the network of residential streets that led back to the ominous house. Why else had the windows been painted black, if not for the safety of a vampire within? Though, she had to say – living here was an incredibly _stupid_ place for a vampire. The sun was stronger than it was up north and it seemed to linger on the horizon until well past seven in the evening.

“You know it’s not safe for someone like you to be wandering these streets so late at night.”

Emma froze. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Slowly she turned towards the voice. Her eyes widening as her gaze fell on the man from her dreams. He was propped up against the side of the brick shop at the corner of the street, his pale skin stark in contrast to the darkness he was shrouded in.

“You’re…” Emma started to say, shaking her head. The moment of enthrallment came screeching to a halt as she realized what he’d said. “Is that a threat?”

“A gentle warning.” He retorted with a shrug, pushing away from the building, taking a few steps towards her before stopping. “I simply meant that these streets aren’t safe for an inebriated witch to be wandering at night.”

Emma’s hands went to her hips. “I can take care of myself.” She gritted out, her eyes narrowing as she locked onto his face. “Why were you being a creep and watching me from outside the bar?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “I wasn’t being a _creep_ , lass… I was just casually looking into that fine establishment. I didn’t mean to unnerve you.”

Emma’s jaw set hard. The hairs at the back of her neck were still standing on end. There was something about his voice that was soothing, much like it had been in her dream. She could vividly remember what his skin had felt like beneath her fingertips. Cool and comforting. Perhaps that was why it was unnerving to her. She remembered all too clearly what the weight of his body had felt like, pressing her into the mattress beneath him.

“Well. You _did_.” Emma snapped. In vain she tried to dispel the images from her dream, which only brought them crashing back over her. “And this? Even creepier.”

“You’re the one who was headed towards my house.” He remarked with a smirk. “Isn’t that a little creepy? I was just looking into a public bar – you were eyeing my house today and making a return visit.”

Emma’s lashes fluttered and she found herself at a loss for words. “I didn’t… I don’t even…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, just leave me alone and I’ll leave you alone. I won’t ever go down Craven Street again so long as you stay the hell out of my dreams.”

He chuckled. “So you had _that_ dream too? Here I was thinking that was just me.” He brushed his fingers through his dark hair and Emma’s fingers flexed, remembering just how fantastic his hair had felt as it slid through his fingers.

“Fuck you.” Emma all but growled out, moving to walk back towards the bar. She was _not_ in the mood for some smug vampire.

“I think you already did.” He called after her, making her come to a halt.

She clenched her fists and turned back to look at him, her heart skipping a beat when she found him right in front of her. “Look. I don’t really know much about vampires and I actually prefer it that way. I didn’t _choose_ to have you come and play around in my dreams last night and _hey_ , maybe you didn’t choose either. But kindly stay out of them from here on out and I won’t go around your place ever again.”

Emma was fairly certain this was one of those situations where Mary Margaret would have told her she was being excessively prickly and a little over-the-top. Aside from the kind of creepy watching her thing, he hadn’t actually done anything that warranted this sort of response out of her. Except that last night had been _really_ good, in terms of dream sex, and that had gotten on her skin.

He held his hands up in mock defense. “Easy there, love. I didn’t mean to offend you-”

“You didn’t _offend_ me.”

The vampire arched a brow at her. “Well if this isn’t _offended_ I’m glad I won’t be getting on your actual offended side.” He remarked with a roll of his eyes. “You know, I never did catch a name last night.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “Maybe it’s better that way.”

“Oh, but there’s every chance our dreams might intersect again. I’d love to have a name for the gorgeous blonde I’m fucking in my dreams.”

Emma fixed him with a droll look. “It’s Emma. Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones. It’s a pleasure to _really_ meet you.” He tipped forward with a grand bow, his eyes flickering to her face as a smirk curved at his lips. “You were _very_ good last night.”

Emma felt her cheeks go red. “You probably say that to all your dream fucks.”

“Can’t say that I have.” He said with a slight chuckle. “It’s been a handful of decades since I last fell into bed with someone and… I can’t recall a time I’ve dreamt in that fashion.”

She arched a brow. “So you don’t go traipsing into people’s dreams? Because I don’t make a habit of that myself.” She was easing up a little. He was actually surprisingly easy to talk to. “Let’s try this again.” She held her hand out, a small smile on her lips. “I’m Emma Swan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Killian smiled at her, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Emma. The name’s Killian Jones.” He took her hand and Emma swore she felt a _literal_ spark between them. The look in his eyes told her that he felt it too, but neither of them commented on it. “Did you just move to town?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah. Yesterday actually.” She laughed a little. “Hell of a welcome to town last night, huh?” She slowly pulled her hand away from his. “I was having a drink down at the bar with a friend of mine. Would you like to join me?” As much as she might have protested being around him just a few short minutes ago, he’d sparked an interest in her. Since neither of them seemed to cause last night intentionally – she didn’t think he was lying about that – there was no reason to avoid him because he was some creepy dream-lurker vampire.

“I’d love to.” Killian said lowly. “Do you think she’ll mind?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “She was far too busy flirting with the bartender. I doubt she even noticed that I left.”

Killian smiled at her, “Lead the way, love.” He said with a gesture towards where the bar was. He felt into stride beside her. It was distracting to think that she knew exactly what he looked like beneath the sleek outfit he wore. He wasn’t some Bela Lugosi vampire with a red-lined black cape. He had a pair of tight black trousers on, a dark blue button up shirt, a fitted vest, and a black leather jacket. He was a very well dressed undead guy.

Even more distracting was the mental image of his face between her thighs. But she was intently trying _not_ to think about that. Because if she did, well… she’d had enough beers that she would probably end up getting very handsy with him.

Just as Emma suspected, Elsa was no longer sitting at the bar. Instead she caught sight of her thick blonde braid at the back of the bar, where she was busily making out with the bartender she’d been flirting with when Emma had left. “She apparently doesn’t waste any time.” Emma said dryly, giving the vampire beside her a sidelong look. “Do you _drink_?”

“Aye.” He said with a nod of his head. “While I do prefer my drinks to be red and O positive, I have quite the fondness for rum.”

Emma grinned. “So do I!” She moved towards the bar, settling at the stool where she’d been before with Elsa. “Two rums.” She said to the bartender who had taken over in the other’s absence.

“I’m going to assume that you truly weren’t _offended_ , but you were scared.” Killian said, leaning an elbow on the bar as he shifted to meet her gaze. “Because you went from walking away from me to asking me out for a drink.”

Emma pressed her lips together. “I wasn’t _scared_ either. I just heard my friend’s voice in my head and realized I was being prickly.”

“Quite prickly. Like a little blonde cactus.”

She narrowed her eyes. “ _Hey_ , you don’t get to call me prickly.”

Killian chuckled. “Whatever you say love.” He tapped his fingers against the top of the bar. “You know there’s every chance that we might have a repeat of last night.”

Emma arched a brow. “So you really didn’t cause that? You didn’t get some vampy-sensation that I was in town and decide to pay me a visit?”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe so. I don’t typically sleep that early either, which perhaps might have been caused by whatever last night was.” He shrugged. “I wish I had some answers for you.”

Emma sighed heavily, thanking the bartender as he returned with their rum. “This wasn’t part of my plan when I moved here. Just so you’re clear.”

“I didn’t think you’d come here to have dream sex with a vampire.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I mean. I mean… _this_. Drinks with a vampire. This is a one-time thing to make up for last night.”

“Are you paying me for sex with a drink?” Killian remarked with a wry grin. “Now that’s a first.”

She took a large drink of her rum. “ _Maybe_.” Emma traced her finger along the edge of her glass. “Last night… was _weird_.” She had never had such a vivid dream before. “I’m not even into vampires.” She said giving him a sideways look. “No offense. I’m not really into anyone right now. I’m pretty content being free of those ties.” She admitted.

“I could tell it had been awhile.” Killian retorted with a grin, taking a long swig of his rum. “I could also tell that you’re used to having to _fake_ it.”

Emma shifted on the stool. “We are _not_ talking about my sex life, thank you.”

“Love, we don’t have to talk about it, but we both know it’s true.” He winked at her, taking another pull from his glass. “Perhaps that’s why last night happened. The fates or whatever may be decided there was a witch and a vampire in desperate need of a good lay.”

“I’m honestly impressed that no one has staked you yet.” Emma said dryly, giving him a sideways look. She shifted then, looking back at Elsa, who was still busy making out with the bartender. She was definitely going to be heading home alone tonight. Which sucked, because she’d been planning to sleep on Elsa’s sofa and not attempting to drive back to her apartment. Best laid plans.

“Oh they’ve tried.” Killian said dramatically, covering his heart with his hand. “If only they knew my weakness was gorgeous blondes.”

Emma’s cheeks went hot at that. “Are you saying that all they have to do is use a woman and you’ll get staked?”

He shrugged. “You got me out of my house tonight so I’d say you’re pretty tempting.”

“To be fair, I’m being particularly un-Emma tonight, asking you out for a drink and all.” She admitted, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I know last night was a dream, but I don’t usually try to see people again. I’m a one night stand kind of girl.”

Killian scratched his scruffy jaw (she hadn’t realized that vampires could _grow_ hair – they were dead after all). “Dully noted. Perhaps we should keep our _relations_ strictly on a dream base so I might see you again.”

Emma shook her head. “We’ll see.”

She didn’t know what it was about him that seemed to enthrall her so completely. She wasn’t lying when she said she was being uncharacteristically _not_ herself. That had to be why she’d been so standoffish at first, because something about him got under her skin and made her _want_ to talk and get to know him. And honestly, after today and how chaotically bad this could all go, it was nice to have a somewhat normal conversation with someone. The flirting was even a nice addition.

It was also going to make for one hell of a phone call to Mary Margaret tomorrow.

“I’ve got to ask – where are you from?” Emma questioned, her brows knitting together as she turned a little more fully to look at him. “Because that accent is distinctly _not_ southern.”

Killian chuckled. “I was made here during the Revolution. I’d never planned to be a soldier, but when my brother joined the Navy I followed and the war broke out here shortly after. He was killed and I was turned.” He shrugged. “I decided to stay here rather than risk sailing back at the end of the war.”

Emma’s lashes fluttered. “You’re _really_ old.”

“I’d like to think I look good for my age.” Killian retorted with a smug grin.

“Oh you do.” Emma said without thinking. The rum was getting to her. That or she just didn’t care. It wasn’t like he didn’t know she didn’t think he was hot. He was a scruffy, blue-eyed, dark-haired _menace_. At least that was what she’d been thinking last night.

“So what brought you to Beaufort?” He questioned, waving at the bartender to refill their drinks.

“It’s complicated and not going as I planned.”

“Care to share? I think you need someone to talk to.”

Emma gave him a look. It _was_ true. “I don’t really know you Killian. For all I know you could be caught up in the same mess and telling you could be a massive mistake.”

“I assure you I keep to myself.”

Emma frowned. There was something in his eyes that told her he was lying. She couldn’t risk it. “Maybe another day.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Killian said with an easy smile, his bright blue eyes raking over her features. “You know, I’m actually hoping we meet again in our dreams tonight.”

“Of course you are.” She said dryly, thankful for the change of subjects. “Because you’re a man.” She rolled her eyes. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t kind of hoping the same. “How do vampires even get hard ons?”

“Same way mortals do.”

“But you’re _dead_.”

“I died, yes. But I came back to life as a vampire.”

“Without a pulse. There’s no blood pumping through you to make you _hard_.”

“I assure you that I am quite capable of getting _hard_.” He remarked pointedly.

Emma ignored that look. “But _how_?”

“You’re a witch Emma and you’re concerned about the logistics of vampire arousal?” Killian widened his eyes dramatically. “You’re well aware of the fact that I can. Just accept that it happens.”

“Well, it _was_ a dream. Maybe you can’t in real life.” Emma said with no small amount of sass, her own eyes widening to match his.

“If you’re so concerned, why don’t I show you?”

Emma swallowed thickly. She’d walked right into that one. “That’s not necessary.” She said, turning back to face the bar, staring down at her rum. She lifted the glass to her lips and finished it in one long drink. “I’m sorry. I should probably be going anyways.” She was not fit to drive home and Elsa was now _gone_. She’d just call a taxi. She reached for her wallet in pocket, throwing down enough money to cover her tab, before she was sliding off the bar stool and heading for the door.

“Emma. Where are you going?” Killian was right beside her in a blink of an eye. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you need to be careful out there.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.

Emma looked up at him, her eyes narrowing as she wrenched her arm free from his grip. “I can take care of myself. I’m calling a taxi. You don’t have to worry about me driving home Killian.” She said firmly, even though she felt like her insides were trembling and not in a good way. It was fear and _not_ fear of him, but fear of herself. She’d made a lot of stupid mistakes in her life and she’d come to realize that if she just didn’t make any decisions that could lead to mistakes, she was better off that way. Killian had _potential mistake_ written all over him and that spark she’d felt when they touched made her certain that it was better to hurt herself than potentially be hurt by him.

“Come back to the Rising Sun with me, Emma. I don’t want something to happen to you.” Killian said softly, reaching for her arm again, his hold much gentler this time. “You can rest on the sofa and leave in the morning when you’re able to drive.”

Emma’s brows knit together and she shook her head. “That’s not a good idea. You seem nice and all, but how do I know you’re not just asking me back so you can have a midnight snack?”

He arched a brow. “Because I’m not like that.”

She shook her head. “But I don’t know that.”

“And I’m afraid that if you _don’t_ come back with me you won’t get a chance to find out if I’m like that or not.”

“Why the hell do you think I’m in so much danger Killian?”

“Because I know why you’re here. There is dark magic in this town and that bitch of a witch is most certainly out to stop anyone who tries to stop her.”

Emma tensed. “How do you know that?”

“Because I’m clever and I do try to keep tabs on this town. If I know why you’re here, do you think she doesn’t?”

“How do I know you’re not working for her? For all I know you could have made last night happen in some shitty attempt to earn my trust.” Emma gritted out. “This isn’t the place for this conversation.”

“Then come back with me.”

Emma balked. “ _No_.”

“You have silver on, you’re safe.”

Emma’s fingers went to the necklace that sat against her chest. “Right.” She gave him a skeptical look. “I’ve heard that doesn’t always mean anything.”

“Well you heard wrong then.”

“You can still cause other bodily harm, you just can’t bite my neck.” Emma retorted, narrowing her eyes as she looked up at him. She was well aware of the fact that they were stood in the middle of the bar, but everything else seemed to just fade away and she only saw _him_. “I’m too drunk for this.”

“I’ll tell you everything I know if you come back with me.”

“Tell me _now_.”

“This is not the place.” Killian’s fingers brushed gently over her arm. “Hurting you wouldn’t benefit me in the least.”

Emma’s brows knit together and she glanced down at where his hand was on her arm. “Fine. I’ll go back with you. But don’t think I won’t cast your ass to the lowest depths of hell if you try _anything_.”

“I won’t even sleep for fear of what might come.” Killian said, releasing his hold on her arm. “I’ll tell you everything too. Everything I know.”

She was going home with a vampire and perhaps she should have felt like she was making a terrible mistake. But there was something in the way he looked at her that told him he wasn’t lying. But then again, she _had_ been wrong in the past. It just didn’t feel right to assume that he was. Maybe some part of her was still fixated on last night. Sure it was a dream, but she’d never been with _anyone_ so fixated on getting her off.

It felt painfully cliché to think it – but maybe he _wasn’t_ like other vampires, maybe he wasn’t even like the other guys she’d been with in the past. Maybe he was in a category all on his own.


End file.
